


Journey

by Shiyaki



Category: Eyeshield 21, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: American Football, Angst with a Happy Ending, Depressed Harry, Fluff and Angst, Football Player Harry, Hiruma will make everything better, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Pre-Canon, Ridiculous petnames, Short Chapters, Sirius doesn't know what to do, snarking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-12
Updated: 2018-07-12
Packaged: 2019-06-09 12:00:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15267069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shiyaki/pseuds/Shiyaki
Summary: A journey of a thousand miles may begin with a single step, but sometimes you need a little shove to take it. Who'd be more qualified to give it than Youichi Hiruma? Ficlet chapters.





	1. Chapter 1

_“The only impossible journey is the one you never begin.” by Anthony Robbins_

* * *

 

Youichi was in the midst of evaluating the newest contribution to his ever growing threat notebook, when the metallic door of the school roof banged open. The bleached blond didn’t even have to take a guess as to the identity of the newcomer, because the tumultuous entry had been accompanied by an overzealous ‘Hiruma-kun’ for all of Tokyo to hear. Seconds later a pointed head appeared around the corner.

He idly wondered if acquainting Kurita with one of his guns would help dampen the boy’s overenthusiastic tendencies, but quickly gave up on the idea. While the calculated success rate was above zero percent, the undertaking, in all its annoying glory, would distract him from more pressing matters. Like increasing his slave-network, for example.

“What do you want fucking fatty? Apart from puncturing my eardrums, I mean.” The blond continued sifting through the copious amounts of photographs and sorted them by blackmail potential. It was quite fascinating what people got up to in their spare time.  

“Hiruma-kun! I found someone amazing!” Kurita went on shouting, completely disregarding Youichi’s reprimand. The nerve! “Yesterday, on my way home, some kids were playing catch in the park and one of them missed the ball. It was about to hit an elder lady, but suddenly a boy dashed up to her and caught the ball just before it reached her! It was amazing, Hiruma-kun, amazing!”

“And what do I care about a random fucking person, fucking fatty?”

“But that’s it Hiruma-kun! He’s a new student who transferred to Musashi-kun’s class. D- do you think he’ll want to play American football with us?”

For a long moment Youichi stared blankly at a shot of his math teacher in drag, not even noticing the protesting twinge in his jaw, which was caused by his clenched teeth. He hadn’t… he **_hadn’t known_** there was a transfer student. Obviously his intelligence gathering network was nowhere near sufficient at this point.

Finally, after having patched his pokerface back together, the blond slid the stack of photographs into a side-pocket of his bag, slung it over one shoulder and shoved another piece of sugarless gum into his mouth in quick succession.

“Ke ke ke, why didn’t you say so earlier? Let’s take a look at our newest teammate.” He pressed one foot against Kurita’s backside and urged the lineman towards the door.

“But Hiruma-kun, he has to say ‘yes’ first!”

“Oh, he will.”

“No blackmailing!”

* * *

 

Instead of running around school like a headless chicken, Youichi headed for Musashi’s classroom first. If their target happened to be elsewhere, there was still enough of their break left to ask around school – read: threaten his classmates into helping them.

They stopped in front of classroom 2b and peered inside. At once, all conversations ceased, when the pupils noticed the blond devil in their midst. Everyone tried to be as inconspicuous as possible, some even going as far as escaping through the second door.

Ha, it was nice to be feared!

Youichi scanned the remaining teenagers, idly noticing that Musashi wasn’t there, until his gaze got caught by a lone boy, sitting at the far end of the room.  His face was directed at the window and part of it covered by black glasses, but enough facial features were visible to identify the raven-haired teen as a Caucasian foreigner.

“Hiruma-kun, that’s him,” Kurita ‘whispered’ in a tone of voice that small children use when they think they’re being quiet. Consequently, everyone in the room heard him. With the exception of the foreign boy, perhaps, who still didn’t pay them any attention.

Instead of confronting the brunet with a Glock 17 or an AK-47, Youichi pulled out the football he usually used to train in his spare time. His throwing skills were nowhere near perfect, but would suffice for this purpose. Blowing a bubble-gum bubble, whilst expertly ignoring the multitude of gasps, the blond took aim and launched his projectile into the boy’s direction to rouse him out of his daydreaming. Maybe he’d even get an initial impression on those ‘amazing’ catching skills.

For a long moment Youichi saw the football collide with the teen’s arm in his mind’s eye. Then, just as it reached his personal space, the brunet flinched minutely, before twisting his body in a show of great flexibility to slide off his chair and assume a defensive position behind his desk. The football whizzed above the dark mop of hair and missed the window by a hair's breadth.

The popping of Youichi’s bubble gum sounded like an explosion in the eerie silence of the classroom.

While most of those present stared at their classmate in shocked astonishment, a thousand thoughts whirled through the blond’s head. Part of his brain was focussing on the brunet’s abnormal behaviour, another was busy working out ways to utilise the quick reflexes to his advantage.

Before his target, or anyone for that matter, had a chance to pull himself together, Youichi strode through the room and leant over the desk slash shield.

“Hey, fucking foreigner, want to join the American football club?”

A pair of green, blank eyes fixed on his as the brunet slowly got up from his crouched position and gingerly sat back down on his chair.

“No.”


	2. Chapter 2

_“Transformation is a process, and as life happens there are tons of ups and downs. It's a journey of discovery - there are moments on mountaintops and moments in deep valleys of despair.” by Rick Warren_

* * *

 

“I’m back.”

Uttering a soft sigh, Harry dropped his school bag next to the coat rack in the hall and shuffled towards the kitchen. He stopped in the doorway, eyed the steaming bowls of takeaway ramen on the table and stared at his sheepishly grinning godfather.

The brunet snorted and sank down on his usual chair, before breaking apart the supplied wooden chopsticks. By now Harry was pretty proficient at using them, though he was still reluctant to acknowledge them as primary cutlery.

“What were you trying to make this time?”

Usually Harry was the one to cook, but sometimes his godfather’s mind was set on preparing a meal all by himself. Unfortunately, Sirius had never developed any culinary skills, because in Azkaban you were glad to get something halfway edible and the rest of his previous life had been spent with a house elf on hand, be it in Grimmauld Place, Hogwarts or Potter Manor. Needless to say that Sirius’ cooking attempts almost always ended in disaster – one time Harry had even come back to a house fire in the making – and takeaway food.

“It was supposed to be treacle tart, but… well, the… the dough might have exploded,” the older brunet admitted with a crocked grin, while tucking into his meal.  “Anyway, how was your day?”

Harry stilled in mid-chew, eyes dulling a tad more than usual.  He quickly swallowed his mouthful and proceeded to eat as if nothing had happened.

 “It was fine.”

Sirius hummed and raised an eyebrow at him. “And classes?  I know your Japanese still needs some work and you’re missing a few years of muggle schooling. I bet it’s hard to keep up. I can look for a tutor, if you want me to.”

“I’ll manage. It’s not like it matters, anyway. I’ll just have to finish the next school year and then I’m done with the obligatory schooling,” the younger brunet muttered into his non-existent beard and pierced the soggy noodles in front of him with a glare.  

“But don’t you want to-“

Harry threw his chopsticks next to the still half full bowl and jumped to his feet, thereby upsetting his chair, which crashed to the floor. Neither of them paid attention to it.

“What I **want** is to ride my Firebolt and look for the Snitch during Quidditch games. What I **want** is to be in Hogwarts with my best friends to learn spells and be annoyed at Snape, because he’s a prejudiced git again. What I **_want_** -“

He felt the tell-tale prickling behind his eyes, but resolutely refused to cry.  Crying had never helped him and it wouldn’t now.

“I’ll **never** get what I want, Sirius. Not after what happened in that manor. Not after… not after what Voldemort did to me. I should have gone the other way… I shouldn’t have come ba-“

Strong, but still far too skinny, arms wrapped around him and pulled him into a tight embrace. The brunet flinched and tried to escape, but a couple of failed attempts later he finally gave up and dropped his head on the older man’s shoulder.

Sirius’ voice was scratchy, when he murmured into his godson’s raven locks, “I can’t even imagine how hard this must be for you, but _please_ don’t ever think like that, Harry. I’m so, so glad that I haven’t lost you that day and I swear I’m somehow going to make it better.”

Harry knew nothing could possible make his situation better, but for now he’d let his godfather hope.

* * *

The next day started as usual.

Harry went to school, ignored the American football in his shoe locker and shuffled to his classroom, where he found yet another American football magazine on his desk – surprisingly enough, they were always in English. He briefly eyed the tall, well-built athletes – the complete opposite to his small, scrawny frame – with envy-fuelled disdain, before shoving the magazine into the storage place under the top of his desk.  

The next few hours were spent with half-hearted attempts to translate his teachers’ lectures and the Japanese characters on the blackboard into something comprehensible. The only subject he had no problem understanding was, of course, English, but the butchering of his mother language – even by the teacher - was almost worse.

Not being particularly inclined to stay in the classroom during lunch break, Harry opted to go for a walk around school, which ended on the roof twenty minutes later. He regretted his choice at once, when he recognised his unmistakable tormentor of the last few days. The footballs and the magazines he could live with, but the blond – Hisuka or something – had adopted the annoying habit of tossing random stuff at him. At first Harry had evaded the items due to instinct, but by now the brunet just dodged everything on principle.

He also kind of wanted to throw a punch at the bloke’s shit-eating grin.

“Ah, if it isn’t the fucking foreigner. Finally decided to join the Devil Bats?”

Harry raised an eyebrow at being addressed in English, with an American accent to boot, but decided to shove that little titbit into the back of his mind. “No. I’m pondering the best way to push you over the railing. Any suggestions?”

Instead of taking the brunet’s words as an affront, the taller teen stepped closer and poked a long, slim finger into Harry’s chest. 

“Kekeke, so you’re not a fucking wimp, after all. How about a deal, then? There’s going to be a practice match next week. You’ll participate and come to practice until then. If you’re still not interested in joining afterwards, I’ll leave you alone.”

The brunet snorted. “I somehow can’t imagine you giving up that easily. Why do you want me in your team anyway? I don’t even know the rules of American football!”

The elf-boy – seriously, there was no way that bloke was completely human – eyed Harry like he thought him a complete idiot, making the urge to punch the blond git return tenfold.

“Are you fucking kidding me, fucking foreigner? Your reflexes are top-notch and according to the fucking fatty you’re not half bad at catching. So, do you agree or not?”

Harry stared at the blond for a long moment, weighting the pros and cons. On one hand it felt like selling his soul to the devil, but on the other hand it was a chance to burst the bloke’s bubble. Someone like him would never be good at a sport seemingly based on height and strength. That would teach – Haruna? – to leave him alone far better than the brunet’s continued disregard.

 “You’ve got yourself a deal, Tinkerbelle.”


	3. Chapter 3

_"Success is a journey, not a destination. The doing is often more important than the outcome." by Arthur Ashe_

* * *

 

Potter would be a member of the Maou Devil Bats, even if it’d be the last thing he did!

The brunet had shown up a bit late to the training, but at least he’d already changed into sportswear, which, probably, was the reason for his tardiness. Youichi reluctantly let it slide for the day, but if it became a repeat offense… well, he _did_ have his ways and means (insert evil cackling).

Karma being a bitch, the fucking foreigner had to endure Kurita’s exuberant welcome and though his expression didn’t deviate from the usual blankness, he didn’t interrupt the other boy or walk away. Before he put Potter through his paces, starting with the 40-yard dash, Youichi reminded him nicely (read: threatened him with a gun) to give it his all. The brunet didn’t even have the good grace to flinch.

All of that ceased to matter, when Potter reached the goal in 4.9 seconds, easily outrunning all of them, which he promptly proved again, when they played the part of rival players to test his evading skills. Potter was a slippery, little bastard. Youichi approved.

Catching was next and the fucking foreigner actually, **_finally_** caught the fucking footballs instead of evading them. All of them, even the ones which went off-course. The brunet wasn’t all that great at throwing though. He wasn’t atrocious, but they’d have to put more focus on that part of his training.

After finding out what the fucking foreigner was capable of, the blond explained the rules of American Football, the basic strategies and what routes were all about, because Potter would be their receiver primarily and fill in roles like running back whenever necessary. It sucked to not have enough regular players.

When training was over, Kurita suggested going to a ramen place, but the idea was summarily dismissed by Potter, who wandered over to his bag and headed out of the school, probably back home. Musashi also declined, giving helping out at his family’s construction company as the reason.

Kurita slumped dejectedly, but Youichi didn’t care. He was just glad that they’d found a few capable players.

* * *

They’d just finished the first quarter of their practice match, when Youichi, gulping down refreshing water, noticed movement in his peripheral vision. He turned his head slightly to the side and eyed the rival team’s receiver, who’d intercepted the fucking foreigner on his way to their bench. If the sneer on the guy’s face was any indication, he hadn’t approached Potter for an exchange of pleasantries. Youichi was curious how the brunet would react. The other teen was often withdrawn and apathetic for whatever reason, but he didn’t strike him (anymore) as someone who allowed people to walk all over him.

Putting the water bottle back on the bench, Youichi strained his ears, but unfortunately only understood every third word or so. It was enough to figure out the fucking receiver’s deal, however. Apparently he was a racistic asshole and took offence at playing against a Brit (among other things). Idiot.

The blond couldn’t see Potter’s face, but his body language suggested disinterest. That is, until the word ‘freak’ left the receiver’s lips and whatever bullshit that followed. The fucking foreigner’s shoulders tensed as he hissed something back that Youichi didn’t catch, then he turned his back on the idiot and strode towards them.

The blond was… a bit taken aback, even if he didn’t show it outwardly. Potter’s expression was stormy, which wasn’t a big fucking deal, but his eyes were _burning_. Sizzling hot determination was staring back at him, a stark contrast to the vacant gaze Youichi had been subjected to for the last week.

Potter eyed each of the main members in turn, “Let’s crush them!”

Youichi smirked dangerously, showing a lot more sharp teeth than the fill-ins were comfortable with. He liked where this was going. Liked it _a lot_.

“Not a bad fucking idea,” the blond agreed amused and urged the rest of the team into a huddle. “Crush them, YA-HA!”

They didn’t end up crushing them. A new team consisting of three members, one maybe member and a few, blackmailed fill-ins just wasn’t good enough to manage such a feat. They did, however, _win,_ if only by three points courtesy of Musashi. And Potter, well, he hadn’t been bad in the first quarter, per se, but he had visibly lacked motivation. Thanks to the other team’s asshole, he’d almost done a one-eighty and scored four touchdowns, beating the receiver who was a whole head taller than the brunet.

Shoving a new, sugarless gum into his mouth, Youichi watched Potter evade Kurita’s attempts at squeezing him to death in exhilaration (also known as a hug). Top-notch reflexes indeed.

“So, what’s your verdict, fucking green eyes, you in or not?”

The Brit looked back at him. The fire was snuffed out again, but the green eyes didn’t look as dead as before, which was progress. Several seconds ticked by. The blond half-expected a refusal and already considered ways to… _convince_ him, after all. Finally, Potter uttered a long-suffering sigh and gave him a nod.

“Sure, why not? It’s not like you’ll stop bugging me even if I say no, not matter what we agreed on.”

Youichi cackled, while Kurita finally got his arms around his new team mate and _squeezed_.


	4. Chapter 4

_"Never let a stumble in the road be the end of your journey", by unknown_

* * *

 

Youichi eyed the small, one-family house, before making his way over to the entrance. As soon as he rang the bell, a bark could be heard from the other side of the door, then some shuffling, until the door was opened by a tall, dark-haired man. If the blond wasn’t wrong (and he wasn’t), this was Sirius Black, fucking green-eyes’ godfather and former (innocent) fugitive. The other man was a bit gaunt, but that didn’t make the suspicion in his eyes any less impressive. Youichi plastered an innocent-looking smile on his face (his default expression, when he wanted something and threatening or blackmailing weren’t an option) and opened his mouth.

“Yeah, no kid,” the man interrupted with a snort and perfectly enunciated Japanese, before the blond had the chance to make something up anything. “I’ve pulled that expression long before you were born. Drop the act and tell me what you want.”

Youichi was a bit nonplussed, but quickly pulled himself together and smirked.

“I’m the captain of the Maou Devil Bats, Hiruma Youichi.”

“Ah, you’re that American football bloke, Harry’s been complaining about,” the man figured out, expression clearing for whatever reason. If Potter had been bad-mouthing him (perhaps with good reason), why would his legal guardian be happy to see him? “Come on in. Harry’s upstairs in his-”

“No, I’m not,” fucking green-eyes denied from the landing, before climbing down the stairs. Potter had raised an eyebrow, but didn’t seem very annoyed to see him. “What’re you doing here, Tink? We don’t have training today.”

Youichi rolled his eyes in annoyance, but didn’t remark anything in regards to the nickname. Potter had made it clear that he’d use it as long as the blond insisted on calling him fucking so-and-so and Youichi _wasn’t_ caving. On the other hand, it was probably a bad idea to follow his usual pattern in front of Black.

“I’m here to make sure you get into Shinryuji,” Youichi stated with an almost manic grin, shoving his hands into the front pockets of his black pants. “The entrance exams for high school start next school year and Kurita has no chance in fucking hell to pass it. Musashi and I can pass it no problem and Kurita will get the sponsored spot, which leaves you. I’ll cram enough knowledge into your brain to make you pass the test, too.”

At once, fucking green-eyes’ face closed off.

“I have no plans to go to high school.” His voice was barely above a whisper, but hard as granite. “So you can fuck off and spent your time blackmailing people or whatever it is you’re doing in your free time.” The brunet turned round on his heel and disappeared back upstairs, the bang of a door followed shortly after.

Black sighed but didn’t look surprised. Upon noticing Youichi’s inquiring gaze, the man reluctantly elaborated, “Some bad stuff happened to him back in England and he lost a lot… Harry’s been like this ever since. To be honest, I was really surprised when he joined your team. He didn’t tell me about the game or I’d have come… I had hoped- Well…”

Youichi unwrapped a new stripe of gum for the sole reason of avoiding the sight of the forlorn man in front of him. The former fugitive, who’d come all the way to Japan with his probably orphaned godson, after a most likely traumatic experience. Great, just what he needed… The blond wasn’t a fucking psychologist and even _if_ , he didn’t know the whole story. What he _did_ know was that an ember of fire had survived in his team mate, he’d _seen_ it, if only for a short while on the field and maybe for a split second on the school’s rooftop more than a week ago. And he’d see it _again_ , he’d make sure of that!

The blond turned to Black and decidedly ignored the slumped shoulders and the downturned head.

“The fu- Harry will go to high school!” YA-HA!

“Yeah sure, do your worst. It’s not like the situation can get more downhill. Second door on the left.” With another sigh, the older man disappeared into the living room, leaving Youichi to his own devices. ‘His worst’, huh? No fucking problem at all!

Now, which was the strategy with the best success rate?

When Youichi opened Potter’s bedroom door without a by your leave, the other teen was shoving something behind his back. The blond’s eyes automatically zeroed in on the criss-crossing red lines of scar tissue on the brunet’s stomach, which were visible due to the shirt having ridden up a bit. Youichi filed the information away for later and stepped farther into the room. It was sparsely furnished and even the hotel room he was currently living in housed more personal possessions than Potter’s bedroom did.

“Didn’t I tell you to leave?”

Youichi snorted and let his gaze wander back to the brunet on the bed, who was scowling at him. Cute.

“I’m not good at listening to orders.”

“Or minding your own business,” fucking green-eyes grumbled. “Why do you care anyway, whether I go to high school or not? I already agreed to stay a member of the Devil Bats until graduation and that high school you want to go to probably has a good American football team with better receivers than me.”

Youichi was almost fascinated that the brunet still hadn’t figured out his own skills or the amount of untapped potential that hadn’t been unearthed, yet. Almost. It was getting annoying.

“Tell you what, fucking green-eyes, we’ll shelve the high school talk. We’ll still proceed with the tutoring, though.” Potter had already proven susceptible to being annoyed into something (he most likely used to be somewhat of a hothead), but insisting on too much too fast only led to an appearance of the other teen’s stubbornness. Baby steps and all that bullshit. “Starting with Japanese. It’s gotta be annoying to only understand half of what’s going on around you.”

“But I just-“

“We’ll start tomorrow, be prepared!”


	5. Chapter 5

_"Strive for progress, not perfection." by anonymous_

* * *

 

“Did you inherit those from your parents?” Harry wondered out of the blue and motioned to Youichi’s ears and teeth, when the other teen looked blankly back at him. The blank mask quickly gave way to a calculating gleam however.

“If I answer your question, will you finally pay attention, fucking green-eyes? I’ll tell you for a week of cooperation during lunch break.”

“One lunchbreak,” Harry countered automatically, without having decided if he was actually willing to agree to the deal.

“Four.”

“Two.”

“Two lunchbreaks and a whole Sunday, last offer, take it or leave it, fucking green-eyes,” the blond declared, seemingly nonchalant, though Harry knew the other teen was bluffing, wanted him to agree at all costs. He still didn’t understand why Youichi was so keen on getting him into his favoured high school, keen enough to bargain with personal information that the blond usually kept close to his chest.

Well, now the question was, did Harry accept the deal or not?  He was really curious and that was the exception nowadays, but was he willing to go along with Youichi’s plan, even just slightly? The blond had dragged him to the school’s rooftop when lunchbreak had started and dropped a bunch of books and folders with notes into his lap. So far, Harry had ignored all of them to Youichi’s apparent frustration. It had to drive the other teen up the wall to be unable to blackmail or threaten him into doing whatever he wanted.

The thing was… Harry didn’t care. He didn’t care about high school, about making friends, about fitting in. Sometimes he didn’t even feel like getting up in the mornings to be honest. There was nothing threatening enough the blond could come up with that would bother him. Youichi likened himself to a demon, to the devil and others did too, but in truth he was utterly harmless. Sure, he was capable of unearthing secrets and destroying lives with them, but so far he’d only used a bit of blackmail, mostly on people who were despicable anyway. And the guns? Ha! Before the other teen actually shot someone, hell would freeze over.

But he was the most intriguing thing he’d come across in a long while…

“Alright, Tink. If you give me a satisfying answer, I cooperate for two lunchbreaks and a Sunday at your place.”

The blond looked slightly taken aback, maybe due to his agreement, maybe because he’d attached a stipulation to the Sunday study session. Harry didn’t know and didn’t care. In the end, the blond snorted, but gave off an amused air.

“A satisfying answer? I could just say ‘No, I didn’t’ and you’d be none the wiser. Doesn’t sound very satisfying for you to me.”

Harry just raised his eyebrow and waited. That didn’t sound like a ‘No, I didn’t’ to him and even if… that would intrigue him even more. Perhaps. Because then he’d continue to wonder where Youichi got his unusual features from.

“If the photographs I’ve seen are to be trusted, I’ve taken after my mother in looks,” the blond revealed after a long moment of silence. He opened his mouth again, like he wanted to add something, but in the end he left it at that.

So the other teen’s mother was either dead or had taken off. Either way, Youichi had been too young to remember her appearance from memory. His face was, again, slightly smirk-y, but Harry noticed the too tense muscles and the minute twitch of fingers around the notebook spine. The blond was probably apprehensive he’d ask more about or comment on his parentage.

Instead, Harry leant back and dropped his gaze to the teaching materials in his lap. He opened one of the folders first and snorted even though he wanted to cry.

“What’s up, fucking green-eyes?” The tension had drained out of Youichi’s body and had been replaced by the usual cockiness. “Copping out is not a fucking option.”

“No, it’s just…” Harry studied the spreadsheets and the marked up text passages, while his fingertips traced the outlines of the stickon notes separating different topics. It reminded him so much of Hermione it _hurt_.  “No, it’s nothing. Let’s get started.”

And later, when he got home and asked Sirius to get him a book about magical beings native to Japan, the older man agreed overjoyed and dragged him into an enthusiastic hug, which the brunet reluctantly allowed.


End file.
